they will spring up like grass in a meadow

Isaiah 44: 3-5  For I will pour water on the thirsty land, and streams on the dry ground  I will pour out my Spirit and my blessing on your descendants.  They will spring up like grass in a meadow, like a poplar trees by flowing streams.  One will say, "I belong to the Lord." Another will call himself by the name of Jacob; still another will write on his hand, "The Lord's" and take the name of Israel.

During those tough teen years when kids are figuring out what they think of the faith they have been brought up in and what they will do with this Jesus their parents have set before them I found this passage and highlighted it in my NAS and my NIV.  I wanted to find it quickly and easily to remind myself that no matter what my eyes saw, how badly I failed, how badly my children failed, God would nourish and work it out.  He would pour water on thirsty land and streams on dry ground.  In those years I was often dry ground, parched and cracking.  So I would come to this place and be reminded that I would see meadows and trees by the streams - someday.

Someday is today.  The fullness of those words and the truth of the promise gained life as our grand joys found their way into our lives and our hearts.  Water on thirsty land.  The blessings multiply throughout the years.  But the joy of seeing our grandchildren learn about Jesus and my children walking in faith is a blessing beyond what I could have expected or known.

Perhaps the concern for today is not children.  Maybe it's a bank account that is not quite meeting the bills.  Perhaps it's a diagnosis that even the word terrifies.  A loved one has died and we are left with the memories, the grief of loss, and the loneliness of forced aloneness.  A single life that was filled with passionate pursuit is now simply lonely.  The marriage did not, is not bringing the fulfillment expected.

Whatever the dryness is, there is still hope.  In John 4 we are told of the Samaritan woman who meets Jesus at the well of Jacob.  He talks to her for just a few moments and confirms what she says and all of a sudden she gets it.  She runs to town and announces that this man has told her everything she ever did.  The towns people leave their work and go out to the well to see this man.  She was overflowing with living water and they recognized it. They saw the dry land had been saturated in living water and went to the source.

Whatever your life circumstances, he is the answer.  He is the comfort you seek, the healing you need, the answer to the question, and the provider of your needs.  It may not look like what you thought it should, but it will be exactly what it should be when it is laid down before the Mighty God, the Creator, the Most High.  Laying it down in fear and trembling before the One who holds the key to everything, finding the peace that comes only from Him and in the most unpeaceful times, that is gift that is found this side of eternity as we learn to trust him.

Hang on his Word.  He is trustworthy when all else fails.

God's view

Last week I talked about the need to see who we are without Christ in order to recognize the amazing goodness of the Lord toward us.  This week I want to look at what the Word says about us. Seeing the truth of who I am without Christ, I believe, was necessary so I would understand honestly who I am in Christ and that who I am is all about who He is in me.   Getting stuck in that place of self-awareness was never God's intention for my life though. Seeing myself through the eyes of God was His intention all along.

I had defined myself by my sin, by my circumstances, and by every negative thing anyone said to me.  God's Word proved to have a very different opinion about me though.  So let's consider what the Bible has to say to each of us, individually, and grab hold of the amazing love that He lavishes on us.

The first thunderbolt that pierced my armor of self-depreciation was from the book of Isaiah:  Can a woman forget her sucking child, that she should not have compassion on the son of her womb? Yea, they may forget, yet will I not forget thee.  For I have carved you into the palms of my hands and your walls are continually before me.  (Is. 49:15-16)

I remember the feel of wonder the first time I realized that Jesus literally did this. The Hebrew word for palms include the top of the wrist where the nails pierced him.  Those nail marks were a revelation to Thomas.  They are carried on the beautiful body of Christ into eternity and one day when I stand before him I will see where he carved me into the palms of his hands because he loves me. The marks of death for the sake of my life.

But there are so many more pieces of treasure that continually served as a balm, a healing solvent, liberally applied to the wounds of my soul.  Here are some:

Romans 3:24  I am the forgiven child of God.
Romans 8:1-2 I am the child of God - set free
Romans 8:37   I am the victorious child of God
1 Cor. 1:2       I am God's child and acceptable to him
1 Cor. 1:30     I am a holy child of God
2 Cor. 5:17     I am made new as a child of God.
Ephesians 1:4  I am God's child, I am loved.
Ephesians 2:13 I am God's child who has drawn close to me.
Ephesians 3:12 I am a confident child of God.

Internalizing each of these truths transformed my understanding to allow me to walk in the forgiveness, the freedom, the victory, the acceptance, the holiness, the newness, the love, the closeness, and the confidence that are God's view of who I am, and to see you in that light as well.  God's grace is so full and complete that as we get a glimpse of it and understand just a glimmer of the truth He lavishes on us it changes us from the inside out.  I challenge you to spend some time in the next month as the world focuses on human love to meditate on a few of these verses and draw near to God.

Glorious Princess

One of the sweetest lessons the Lord gently and lovingly imparted to me has been who I am in Him.  The peace of soul that comes with knowing I am a daughter of the Most High is intense, if peace can be described as intense.  Knowing that nothing can take me out of the protection and care I have in the palm of His hand is comforting.  Knowing that I cannot truly make a bad decision for even the really bad ones are used for my good in the end, simply because I love Him and He promised.  All the horrible things done to me and by me are made not simply justified, but good and useful in His hand.

However, it took years before I honestly believed God's Word concerning who I am.  I knew me.  I knew my mistakes, my hatred, my ugliness way down deep.  Do you know what I mean?  Others saw a compassionate, friendly, helpful person.  (These are words others had said to me about me.)  But I knew better and it took layer upon layer of the Lord's kindness and patience telling me, reminding me, speaking anew the truth of His Word that it wasn't about me.

That's it really, isn't it?  It's not about me; what I did or didn't do; what I think or say or feel.  It's about His amazing, abundant, complete, and overwhelming grace following mercy.  Recently I have been thinking about this a little deeper though.

Not only is it not because of me, but those things about me, as I see the truth of them, and realize how desperately distant from God they make me, yeah, those things give me a perspective that allows me to draw closer to Him, appreciate His goodness toward me more deeply, and in general understand who I am in Him even better.

As I recognize my lack of worth, of my complete inability to be anything close to righteous, and I begin to mourn my position, not in self-pity, but in a true understanding of how what I am separates me from the loving God I was created to commune with, I begin in that moment to realize in a deeper, truer sense of how much I need Christ.  I am overwhelmingly humbled that despite my complete and utter worthlessness He loves me.  I am lovable and valuable because of His love.

We live in a time and culture that promotes self knowledge and self esteem.  In some ways there is value in that.  I have seen that get in the way of what God is doing in someone's life though.  We don't deserve anything good or kind.  David called himself a worm.  Jeremiah and Isaiah both told us in one way or another that we are nothing next to God. If not for the blood of the lamb and the veil of the temple God's chosen would have been devoured by judgement.  Find someone who is honestly repentant for their mistake, their bad choice, their sin, and you will find someone who in those first moments feel horrible about themselves and rightly so.  They should feel badly.  It's right they take responsibility.  Only then can they come to a place of recognition of the truth of their need for a Savior.

We utterly and completely need Jesus.  In that first moment when we see we are nothing without Him and every moment following it.  It is good for me to remember what lies beyond the Blood that takes it all away.  Remembering keeps me from feeling deserving.  When I think I deserve it (and we all get to that sense of ownership or accomplishment from time to time) I then begin to see myself as my own Savior.  Now I would never say it that way in the moment of course.  But isn't that what it boils down to?  Replacing Jesus because we feel capable?

The sweet kindness of our Father is like a loving Daddy who allows us to try on own so that we will fall, and then remember - we need His provision.  We are not enough on our own.  It is humbling to say "I can't, help me."  It is necessary to remember so that not only we draw nearer to the God who loves us and longs to  relate to us, but also that in those moments of humility God is lifted, Jesus is lifted and glorified.  I am precious to my Savior.  I was worth His life in His eyes.  I am His bride, his delight, the love of His life.  I am the daughter of the Most High King, a princess, loved beyond measure and treasured more than diamonds and gold.  I am all this and more simply because of His love and not because of anything I am on my own. I did not earn it and I can do nothing to hold onto it.  It simply is. I am a glorious princess not because I am glorious, but because He is glorious through me and in me!

unexpected gifts

Isaiah 40:11  He tends his flock like a shepherd:  He gathers the lambs in his arms and carries them close to his heart; he gently leads the nursing ewes.

In the summer of 1986 I received a call from the doctors' office.  "Congratulations, Mrs. Collins!"  "Thank you!  For what?"  "Um, your test, your pregnancy test?  It came back positive."  I had the test done as a precaution before taking medicine that would be a problem if I were pregnant.  But it was purely precautionary on my part.  I had no idea that I was nor any intention of being so.  I had a very strong headed five year old, a very strong willed one year old, and a very clingy three year old.  I felt like I was drowning as a parent, unable to do anything well for my girls; and now the dr.s' office was telling me I was going to have another one?  I hung up the phone, sat on edge of the bed, and wept.  I prayed, "God do you know how poorly I am doing this job already?" I was tired and worried and thought surely there had been a mistake.  But there was no mistake and in March of 1987 our son Matthew as born.  Matthew means gift of Jehovah, because he truly was just that.  Matt was easy going from day one, loving to be entertained by his sisters.  He rarely fussed too loudly throughout his childhood. He was and is sweet and affectionate. Funny how God knows best.  My dear friend, Carol Jo, offered me this scripture from Isaiah when I was struggling through those first days of pregnancy and I clung to the words like breath.  He would gently lead me, and more, He would carry my babies close to His heart.  I could depend on Him for support, comfort, even to step in and carry my babies when I could not.  What more could I ask?

engraved

Isaiah 49:16  See I have engraved you on the palms of my hands; your walls are ever before me.

For too many reasons to list here I came into adulthood with a deep sense of worthlessness and fear that others would see just how useless and terrible I really was if they ever really knew me.  But through patient, tender love, the Lord placed people in my life who spoke truth about the value He places on me.  Through the preached Word on Sundays, ladies Bible studies through the weeks, Home Groups, and friendships, as well as things my husband shared, my children would say, my mother-in-law and my own parents I heard the Word confirmed back to me.  One day reading through the book of Isaiah, I read this passage and I realized, "Wait, Jesus really did this in the flesh!"  He carved me into his palms.  The Hebrew word for palms incorporates the full hand and wrist area where the nails pierced Him.  I felt those words fly off the page and take wings in my heart.  I finally got it.  In eternity I will find a glorified perfect body, whole and complete.  But Jesus will carry the marks of His Love for me FOREVER.  My walls are EVER before him.  He loves that much.  Value, yes I have value.  And not because I earned it or didn't do or did do anything.  My value rests in the fact that He loves me.  You, too, by the way.

Romans 8:15 For you have not received a spirit of slavery leading to fear again, but you have received a spirit of adoption as sons by which we cry out, “Abba! (NASB)

Ephesians 1:5   he predestined us for adoption as sons through Jesus Christ, according to the purpose of his will, (ESV)


As believers in Christ we know that we are children of God.  We know that we are born again.  


Christ's death, his payment for our sin, the propitiation required, allows us the opportunity to receive the "spirit of adoption as sons".  But what does that mean?  What does it mean to be adopted?


Adoption is a legal term.  It is the process by which a child born of one set of parents becomes the child of another set or individual parent by means of the court system, having a judge rule the adoption complete and lawful.  The judge signs the adoption certificate or decree and the new parents file for a new birth certificate that has the child's new name and the new parents are listed and the child is theirs in every way.  In the eyes of the law this child is now completely and utterly their child and the law will not differentiate between them and a biological child of the same parents.  The adopted child is now an heir among the children.


I know this because I have adopted children.  The process of adoption is a birthing process even as the biological process of birth.  There are distinct markers of "pregnancy", "labor", and "birth".  I can compare this relatively well as I also have biological children.  But I don't wish to share the details of our adoptions here and now.  What I want to look at is the spiritual correlation. 


My adopted children were born to other women.  My daughter belonged to that birth family until she was twelve.  My son was released for adoption at three days old by his biological mother.  They were both born to be my children though.  Born of another's body, but chosen by the Father to be my child.  My son came young and became a part of this family in a way that he knew no other family, no other way.  This is where he belonged.  My daughter came with memories of another time, other people, another life.  But she will quickly tell you that we are her family, I am her mother, and my husband is her "Daddy".  How can that be?  Just because some judge signed a paper?


No, but that marked a permanency that allowed the feelings of belonging and of safety to grow.  It was the fertile soil for those other things to be.  Without the legal process that said she was ours she would have continued to waver in a sense that "they" could take her away again, for she remembers being taken away.  She would have continued to fear that the birth family could come steal her away; something she was very much afraid of for several months, but months not years.  She no longer fears that.   The legal procedure of  adoption allowed our daughter and her new family to move toward the truth that she is ours, born to be ours, designed to be a child of God under our care.

In much the same way, our adoption as "sons" allows us to grow into our understanding of what it means to be God's child. It is the legal decree that declares to all who would hear that we are his.  We were born of another (in sin) but through the death of Christ our redemption was purchased, the requirements of God's law were fulfilled and thereby we have a legal claim to his family simply by the acceptance of Christ's work, of his being who he is.  When one professes Christ as their Savior the adoption decree is signed and that one has the all the legal rights of an heir.  The birth certificate is changed so that God is now listed as our parent.  In that moment the new believer has received "the spirit of adoption" and is completely and in every way a member of God's family.


Some of us come as little children and really know no other way.  Our memories are wrapped up in the family of God, surrounded by God's grace and love.  Some of us come later, with memories of old ways, an old life, and other relationships.  We may face fears that arise from things in the past. But those memories and fears, those old ways, those old relationships do not change the fact that the adoption decree was signed and a new birth took place and we were born to be a child of this Father.

Placement Day

Today is "Placement Day" for our family.  Fifteen years ago today we sat in the small "living room" of the adoption agency together with our children, my parents, our newest son and his foster mom and her little girl. I don't remember if the day was sunny or it rained.  There could have been cold cloudy breezes blowing but I have no recollection of the weather outside. It rained through sunshine inside though. Tears were flowing freely:  tears of joy, tears of loss, but not tears of fear, and not tears of an infant.  The tears came from me, and a couple of my daughters.  The tears flowed from Dawn, the foster mom, who was battling with conflicting emotions both joy and grief.  The tears threatened my mom's cheeks as she wiped and sniffled them away.

This little boy had been Dawn's for six month.  She had loved him freely, changed his diaper, rocked his fears away, sang him into dreamland, and her husband and she gave themselves to him in a selfless act of devotion to their Savior.  Dawn had become his "Mommy" and earned his love and devotion.  They had prayed for us and wondered what took so long to find a family for him.  They had waited for this moment and knew it would come.  But now that she faced it her world was shaking hard.  Still she dressed him that morning for the last time and brought him to us, knowing this was what the plan was from day one.  Her heart ached with the loss, but her spirit smiled through the tears - sunshine through the rain.

Genna cried too.  She was the cute little blond two year old with a smile that would melt the meanest heart.  She loved our son like her own.  He was her own.  He was her first brother.  There would be others who are brothers who belonged to her.  But in that moment he was her brother and she cried for the now that she didn't truly understand.  Mention Genna's name and he jumped with joy.  He knew she loved him.

My mom and dad came.  My dad has always had such an open heart.  He had often included the lonely and neglected.  He gave with a generous heart to those around him.  That day he spoke words of blessing, words of inclusion, words that welcomed the baby physically and spiritually into our fold.  He slid easily into the moment of newness with our son.  My mom was the more cautious one.  She considered the practical and carried concern for what could harm.  She was never the one to weep openly, and quietly dabbed wet eyes. When he was placed in her arms her heart reached out and wrapped her around this tender little boy.  She had worried for me.  She had worried that she would not be able to see him as her own grandchild, but in that moment she received him just as she had my first four children.  He reached his tiny hand to her and grasped her heart within it.

My children each took turns playing with him, holding him, the new toy.  A baby for the oldest two girls to enjoy.  A mixture of love and competition for my third daughter who had been the "baby" in our home.  Our son embraced this newest son with a delight only an only son could grasp.  He was not alone now.  He had a brother.  A dream come true for him.  Second mommies who would care for him and love him without a second thought, a sister who would be a sister in every way, teasing and tempting and loving him intensely, and a brother who would continue to be devoted to him throughout life, this is what waited for Tim on the other side of the ceremony in that little living room in 1997.

My husband took him in his arm and read passages from 1 Timothy, a favorite of his, and the reason we decided to keep the name he had been given at birth - Timothy.  A child that was not part of my husband's plan at first, but that day in that room there was no doubt in Richard's heart that this child had been born to be his son.  Adopted by this father even as Rich had been adopted by his father, and we had been adopted by the Father.  Not something of shame as the generations before had labeled adoption.  No, this was a reason to rejoice!  This was a celebration for we had a new son!  Yes, there was sadness in the path that brought him to us, but anything of value has been refined in the fire of life.  We were simply thankful that God allowed him to be ours on this day.

I wept openly with delight, with the deepest kind of joy.  The kind of joy that awakens and pushes its way forward and out into the light when a dream is realized.  I had timidly offered this dream to my husband almost seven years before this day.  I had spent days weeping at what I thought was the wrong dream as we were rejected over and over for different children waiting for adoption.  I had worked through depression that tried to drown me in a sense of worthlessness and unfitness for the task.  And this day, May 9, 1997 was my day of victory.  The completion of the dream bounced on my lap with overwhelming delight at the attention being offered to him.

Timmy found the day a party.  He laughed and gurgled with joy.  He delighted everyone with his cute little face and noises.  There were days ahead that brought more struggle as we learned how to be a family together and settled into the routine of life that included this little boy.  But he knew today, this day, was his and he basked in the warmth of the moment.  

I love you, Tim.  You are my dream come true and the answer to my prayers.  I am thankful every day that I am your Mom.

Forgive Spontaneously

Forgive spontaneously.  I listened as the speaker spoke about her life, how her expectations and dreams had come crashing down around her and she could not stop or control the situation.  I heard her talk about how difficult it was as she realized the truth of her faith, that forgiveness was not an option, it was an integral part of her walk with the Lord and a mandatory item on the list of traits and actions of a Christian.  My conscious was prick.

A few minutes before the group of women at this retreat gathered together and lifted our voices in songs of worship for our Savior. In the middle of one song I sang with abandoned delight as I turned my heart toward him and declared "I want to love like you love!" Quietly in the depths of my spirit I heard a voice I know well.  "Even him?"  "Him" would be my son-in-law who several months ago decided that he was not a believer and he did not want to be married to my daughter anymore.  He broke his vow to her, his promise to us, and abandoned his family.  I told him when this first happened that I loved him and he would always be my "son".  He replied that we would see down the road how that held up.  He was right.

As the months have passed and I have watched my daughter respond with godly wisdom and prayfully covered  replies to his often purposefully caustic and hurtful remarks I have begun to loathe him.  I don't dislike people easily, but he has earned my anger.  Watching my daughter hurt over something she did not deserve and hearing my little grandchildren wonder if their daddy still loves them has covered my heart with a steel plate of anger.  Funny thing is I never saw it happening.  I didn't feel the welding of the metal as it was being wrapped around my heart.  I didn't hear the clank of the metal as it was set piece by piece.  I don't usually struggle with anger and this felt "righteous" as it was laid in place.

Maybe it was.  But what does it benefit the kingdom of God?  How does it achieve any glory for the Lord?  What has it done to me or for my daughter?  Not one good thing.  My son-in-law has surely felt my anger; although I haven't spoken it to him directly.  He knows what we believe about loving our enemies.  I'm sure I haven't done a good job of that.  And what about my daughter?  She has responded in ways that try as he may, my s.i.l. cannot say that she is anything but loving.  She has been the picture of a Christian response to him.  Me, not so much. I have been more of a challenge to her faith than an asset. And what of the kingdom and the glory?  yeah.  not much happening there in this on my part.

So when the Lord's tender voice gently asked me, "even him?" I wanted to tell him "not a chance", but then I don't really want to love like Jesus, do I?  I cried, tears falling from my eyes as I stood before my Savior naked once again.  My shame and my false intentions covering the light of his love within me.  And then this word . . . forgive spontaneously.  Isn't that what Christ has given me?  Instantly, waiting for my asking, over and over as I come to him with each new failure and even more, he has taken those very things that were my shame and turned them into his glory so often.  So often those things have become my badge of honor:  "Look what Jesus did for me!"

So I am displeased with the way her husband is treating my daughter and I am still angry that my four year old granddaughter tells me "Grammy, do you know my heart hurts?"  Yet, still I remember the man that fell in love with my girl and I know that my God is bigger than this man's failures and choices.  And God is able to deliver my daughter into a better tomorrow, restore this man's faith at some point, heal the heart of my wounded grandjoys, and forgive me my moment of angry indulgence.  I forgive you, Chris, even without your asking, for Christ's sake and because I truly do want to love you as Christ loves you.

Ishimwe.  We have been involved with Compassion International since about 1990.  Our first sponsor child was in Ecuador and his name was Walter.  During the several years we sponsored him we discovered that his desire was to become an auto mechanic which is what my husband does.  We began to pray that he would have the opportunity for the training necessary and that a door would be open for him to do this with his life.  We learned after a few years that every letter we had written him, every strip of stickers we had sent, every post card, every picture were all safely kept in a photo album under his bed.  They were his "treasures".  We learned so much from our relationship with Walter and although he is a grown man living somewhere in his country fixing cars, we have no contact now.  But I still think of Walter and pray for him from time to time.  Through the years we have sponsored several other children.  I believe this new one makes 12.  I opened up the page and stared at the faces of those sweet children so in need of the most basic things like clean water, education, and Jesus.  "How can I pick, Father?" I prayed. That is always the hardest part.  How do you choose?  But as I looked through the pictures a face seemed to be familiar and I knew she was the one.  So I signed up for this girl. Ishimwe is her name.  I only know her birthday, name, age and a little about her country and her home life. I will learn more as the years go by and I hear from her and send her our love. I cannot wait to write her a letter and send her some stickers and book marks and remind her that God created her with a purpose and a plan for her life for good.  

If you are not involved with a sponsorship group there are a few really good ones out there.  Compassion is at the top of the list in my opinion.  Check them out.  The sacrifice you make to sponsor one of these children is worth the effort. I promise you.  If you take the time to write you will find that you get more out of this than any money you put into it.  I encourage you to consider it, check out their website compassion.com and start sponsoring a child today.

Have you ever begun a project thinking you were doing one thing and ended up doing something completely different?  I am in the middle of that kind of experience right now.  I started working on a paper this week.  The paper is for Applied Psychology and the topic is Positive Philosophy.  I knew this would be a fun and interesting paper before I began.  I also knew I would run into some deep challenges as I looked into how a counselor works with people whose lives are affected by traumatic events in their past and how or if the philosophy mentioned can be employed to help bring about healing, resolution, or relief.  All of this is proving true already.  I am finding the books fascinating and the topic of positive philosophy really uplifting for myself.

However, because my priority list is overloaded always and I struggle with what to do right now in this minute, I am always wondering what about that over there; when do I get to it?  I have been feeling this way about some of the writing projects I am working on.  One project is about our adoption experience.  The project tells how we came to that decision, the process of adoption for us, how it affected our four children at that time, and finding and adjusting to the new child.  There is so much more to our story though.  We adopted again. And there was so much stemming from the point of adoption, healing processes for both children, and things that affected who we as a family and individuals became because of the experience of adoption.  I initially gave the journal I am using as my jumping spot to several people connected to our adoption journey as a thank you gift. I gave it to a few friends who adopted also.  I was challenged to turn into something more and I am doing that. But writing it has meant finding the line between privacy and my children's right to their own life and the information that may help someone or bless someone or encourage someone who is adopting or facing some kind difficult issue connected to the adoption or process.  I recently picked up the story and began changing it to a fictional account.  Not sure how that feels yet.  I will probably keep it true.  But mostly I felt like I don't have the time to pour the kind of emotions and thought into the project right now. So I sat it aside.  But I kept thinking about it and wondering how to balance the things I need to include with my children.  I certainly would not include anything they are not ready for me to say. But then, that could be a good portion of the book and is there a way of communicating it without betraying them?

So I have been bouncing it around and my uncle asks me how that story is going.  He has read it for me and encouraged me to get it published.  I told him my concerns in detail and he gave me some valid advice. Let it sit for a time.  Children grow up and their needs and perspectives change as they do.  Good advice.  I can see that even through my own adult life.  Let it sit and the time will come when it is ready, time is full, and the need in others will still be there.  So I am sitting on it and moving on.  Is there something you can set aside until the time is better?  Something that you don't want to let go of but could put on a shelf for a season in order to do other things or wait for a better time?  Trust God to bring it back around when the time is better and he will or he will simply remove it and give you the peace to let it go.

foxes and the vines

Eleven years ago this month we moved into our home.  One of my favorite things about the house when we first came was the amazing, beautiful gardens the previous owner had left me.  She had prepared such wonder and left the fruit of her efforts for me to enjoy.  I love to play in the dirt.  I don't mind getting my hands messy and every winter you will find rows of little seedlings sprouting in my windows with a pure hope that they will be strong and do well under my care.  But I have no green thumb.  Sometimes, I think just to bless me, the Lord gives me a good garden filled with beautiful extra things I have planted.  Much of what's there is simply the continued blessings from Susan's work long before I came into the garden and left my own foot prints in the dirt though.

About year three years in I started to realize that a particular vine in the cutting garden was getting out of hand.  The little purple flowers that covered it in late spring were really lovely.  But it was choking the lilac, the hydrangea, and the forsythia bushes and covering over all the other plants on the ground.  It was obviously a bully. So diligently I pulled and dug and yanked until it was minimal.  The following year I worked even harder to try to eliminate it and the third year I seemed to have finally erased the monster from my garden.  No sign of it for several years now.  Until last week.

On a warm, February day I trotted out to the cutting garden to clean up some of what I had left undone last fall and was amazed to find several very long strands of the variegated vines twisting their way around the poles, pillar, and bushes. I pulled one out and looked at it closely to be sure I was seeing what I thought I was seeing. There it was five years later creeping its way back into my life.  I pulled a few of the vines out but didn't finish the job.  I know I need to completely clean it off the bushes and other items or it will become a bully once again.  The thing is they are pretty vines with white and green leaves and small purple flowers when in bloom.  They are a beautiful ground cover.  I see it sold in garden centers all the time and I want to warn people, "It will eat up your garden unless you like to fight your plants!"

The thing is I don't think the plant is a wicked or horrible thing.  It's just something that needs to be tended and managed well and if the gardener hasn't time to do those things this particular plant should not be included in the garden scheme.

As I was pulling at the few vines there and deciding whether I would wrestle with them and have a nice ground cover this year or do my best to eradicate the little bullies I thought about Song of Solomon 2:15 which says, "Catch the foxes for us, the little foxes that are ruining the vineyards, while our vineyards are in bloom."   Foxes (in my opinion) are beautiful creatures, smart and crafty.  But they will mess up the grapes growing.  And just like my vines popped up unexpectedly foxes will show up in the night when you are not there to guard the fruit.

Foxes - vines, both offered me a picture for those little things that are lovely or enjoyable and even perhaps serve a purpose (like ground covering) but need management and sometimes an outright fight in my daily life.
Those things that add something to the garden of my day but quickly take over my time and energy are my "foxes"  or "vines".  Phone calls used to be my time management nightmare.  I could spend hours on the phone praying with others, socializing, working the schedule to arrange get-togethers, and a million other reasons to be tied to that corded buddy that only allowed me so far and no more.  Now, I don't spend so much time on the phone as I do face book, pinterest, and email.  Some of it is just waste like the time spent on the games, relaxing but not much good otherwise.  Some of it really serves a purpose.  Facebook and email allow me contact with friends and family that I might otherwise never have. Pinterest, my newest time gobbler, has inspired me and stirred my creativity in ways that already have benefited my family and me.  However, they can be little foxes coming in and nipping away at the fruit of my time and leaving me with no time (wasted fruit).  Or like the vine, choking the life out of other areas of life, such as finances (something has to pay for the creativity).

While each of those particular activities have a purpose and are useful for me, they are also potentially threatening to my day, my time, and to what God has called me to do.  If I spend the day or the whole morning whittling away on one of these instead of caring for the family He has given me; or if I am pinning away on Pinterest instead of putting some of that new found creativity to use for my friends and family; if I waste the time reading all 300 or so friends statuses or playing games with my buddies instead of working on the writing that needs my attention I have allowed the pretty little vines to climb all over my day and they will begin to squeeze out those other and more important areas of life.

Perhaps you are not tempted by the things I mentioned.  That's ok and good for you! I bet, though, you have something that pulls at your attention and threatens to run your day for you.  Maybe it's television or talk radio, or noodling around with an instrument, or reading when you should be doing, or doing when you should be reading.  Whatever it is catch the foxes.  Scripture doesn't say kill the foxes, but catch the foxes, capture them and get them out of the vineyard where they don't belong. Manage your garden.  What are your foxes?  Do you have vines trying to bully their way into your day?

Warm me

The cold darkness settles 'round me

I find myself once more questioning

Who Am I?

Am I really called to this?

Do I really belong?

Am I enough for the challenge?

Am I able?

As the darkness presses into my being

Blotting out the memory and the knowledge

Of what I know, of who I am

I feel myself spin

I feel a sense of loss within

But then quietly

Out of the Life that has become mine

Out of the Love that over flows measure

Out of the peace that cannot be taken from me

Even when I've surrendered it.

The quiet peace screams

In the silence of the darkness

And I know that it is not about who I am

But Whose I am

Not where I belong

But to Whom I belong

It's not that I need to be enough

I know Who is enough

And the cold of the darkness recedes into the shadows

As the Light presses in and warms the dark cold corners of me.

I can?

I can do all things through Jesus Christ who gives me strength. Philippians 4:13

So does that mean all things?

Are there conditions?

Are there limitations?

How do I receive that strength that is referred to here?

According to James Strong in his Exhaustive Concordance the Greek word "pas" means all, every, all things, every thing. So, all.

I'm not feeling very capable of handling the load I have. I have probably taken on things that don't belong in my schedule. But then there is very little that I can see as extra. Perhaps you can relate to this? There are days when I feel like I just cannot do a good job at anything because I am spread so thin.

And so between laundry, dishes, bookkeeping at the business, running to Va once or twice a month, being a parent of two teenagers (you'd think I could do that blindfolded by now, wouldn't ya' but nah, not a chance), researching and writing papers for my degree, trying to eat healthy and exercise (who knew how much effort and time that takes!), writing my adoption book and writing my novels (yes, I have one about done and 2 others begun), then there's the scrapbooking consultant job I signed onto (creative memories), not to mention husband, adult children, grandchildren, and friends, and of course writing a blog weekly (Stop laughing!, no really, I do try), research for the books, and is there time to relax (well, if you look at my face book activity and my video viewing you would think there's plenty). In all honesty though, I know this is do-able. I just need proper expectations and I need to meet a few conditions and understand the limitations that I see applied and implied in this scripture and connected verses.

Paul wrote this from a jail cell. How is someone hopeful whose writing with prison guards outside the door? Paul was. It was possible for him and for me in my circumstances because my ability to do all things is not based on my ability but on Christ Jesus who gives me strength.

So wait, back up a minute, conditions and limitations? Yes, I believe there is. First Paul makes it clear that this is based on his relationship with Jesus and on his understanding of who he is in him. "through Jesus Christ". Jesus said it also in John 15:5 "He that abideth (to stay in a given place, state, relation, or expectancy, abide, continue, dwell, endure, be present, remain, stay, tarry) in me and I in him, the same bringeth forth much fruit: for without me ye can do nothing (no thing)." If I abide, if I live in that place, state, relation of "him in me and me in him" then I can do all things, and if I don't live in that place, then well, I can do nothing. So the condition is to abide in Christ and the limitation is that if I don't live in that place then this doesn't apply to me.

In another place the psalmist counsels the reader to "delight yourself in the Lord and He will give you the desires of your heart." But what has that to do with this? Well, the desires of my heart were exactly what is so heavy for me right now. The weight of raising two adopted teenagers when I could be done parenting (in this level anyway) and fully embracing my grammyhood without contest with my mommyhood is one of those things. Teenagers, in case you have never dealt with any, are for many purposes tall, strong, mouthy two year olds. Perhaps I'm being a bit harsh . . . on second thought, no I'm not. But that's a topic for another blog day. The degree is ofcourse the delight of my heart, but right now it is really a weight to try to find the time to research well, and write well, the papers that represent my thoughts and to do them in a timely fashion (which is not happening at all). But they are and have been the prayful, hunger of my heart for a long time. With the blessing comes the responsibility within and staying in that place of delighting my self in Him, realizing that he after all really is the true and deepest desire of my heart and in that I can do nothing apart from him. Why would I want to?

So the condition is to delight in the Lord and the limits are that he (not me providing it for myself or through anyone else) will give (but it does not promise how or when), he will give and in his strength.

Ok, one more. Nehemiah 8:10 "the joy of the Lord is your strength." He said to Israel mourn not, because the people wept when they heard the words of the law. But their leader told them this day was holy so don't weep, the joy of the Lord is your strength. Our days are equally holy before him for we have entered a sabbath rest with the resurrection of Christ and in that holy rest there is a place of joy for the Lord has borne our sorrow and shame and redeem us to be his own, restored us to right relationship, and called us his bride. How could I not find a place of joy in that?

I don't know if I will ever find a way to really balance this life I have. I don't know if I will live one day when I don't forget or neglect something. I don't know if any of this will matter to me in ten years. But I do know that I can do it. Not because I am strong and capable, but because I recognize that I am weak and useless aside from Jesus who delights in giving me strength and ability to do what is beyond me. He knows the deepest desires of my heart and has over and over given me the joy of seeing them come to life. I have living proof of that daily each morning as my kids rise and call me "mom". I have proof of that each time I write a paper and send it in, one more done, one step closer to the dream. And I have it in his Word. What else could I possibly need for encouragement or proof?

"God is so good."

"So glad God was with her."

"The Lord was kind and merciful in this."

Heard a lot of these today and I have said things like them today also. Today my seventeen year old daughter ran into the back of a pick up truck. The truck had stopped to turn left and she saw that. She also saw there was nothing approaching from the other direction. The sun was blinding her and she reached up to lower the visor and looked at it instead of keeping her eyes on the road. When she looked back the truck was still sitting there and she had no time to stop. Slamming her brakes she ran into the back and under, was spun around and ended up in a ditch next to the road. Airbag blew, seat belt held fast, and she was jerked and thrown a bit, but other than some bruising and soreness she will be fine in a few days. Scary stuff for her and for us as her parents.

Take it from me, that's a horrendous call to get at 6:55 am. Rich was just coming out of the bath to dress for work. I was trying to rouse myself out of the comfort of my sheets and blanket. Then the phone rang.

I am thankful that it happened just up the road not more than a 1/2 mile from our home. I am thankful she wore her seat belt and the airbag worked properly. I do believe that God said "this far and no further" and her life was spared because of his mercy. But as I uttered those words earlier today to someone, "God is so good." The thought crossed my mind, "What if she had not lived? What if she was hurt in a way that affected her whole life? What if the man in the truck had been killed? What if. . . . Would God still be good?"

I do not mean to sound ungrateful for His protection. I am deeply thankful today. I am not questioning God's goodness either. I have faced enough as a parent to know that no matter what my eyes see, He is still bigger and knows better.

Yet, I have friends and acquaintances who have lost children to car accidents and other things. And the question begs "Where was God's goodness when those children were lost? Was He any less God? Any less in control? Is He still sovereign, omniscient? Is He still good?"

When a parent has taught and set a good example, but the child chooses to do difficult or even dangerous things, and becomes a run away, an addict, or stays in an abusive relationship - couldn't God have stopped them?

When a child is molested and victimized even though the parents tried to protect and keep her safe, is God any less God because of it?

When a couple adopts a baby and wants to love and protect this child as their own, but finds the child cannot accept their love and will not respond in love toward them. Is God still love? Did He know how hard it would be?

When a daughter does nothing wrong except ride with a friend to school and ends up losing her life, is God still God?

I can tell you with assurance, He is still God 100%. He is still sovereign, and omniscient. He is still merciful, kind, and good.

In fact, it is his mercy, his kindness, and his goodness that will sustain one through such horrors. Death, abuse, addiction, rebellion and the like are the results of living in a sin torn world. They are the chart, the portrait set before us to remind us and call us to the Living God. He is more than good or merciful. He is Life. And apart from him we walk in death.

The psalmists cry over and over throughout the book not only in praise and gladness, but in distress and fear. In Psalm 88 the poet writes, "O Lord God of my salvation, I have cried day and night before thee: Let my prayer come before thee: incline thine ear unto my cry: For my soul is full of troubles and my life draweth nigh unto the grave." (KJV) It moves forward in the same manner crying out to God in dispair. These psalms are meant to comfort us as we relate to the distress and the cry of the heart.

In other places Isaiah tells us that the Lord's ways are not our ways and His thoughts are not our thoughts. That even as the sky is higher than us so are the Lord's thoughts and ways higher than ours. Ruth Bell Graham told a beautiful story once about a life picture and how the person could only see the mess of tangles and threads hanging loose throughout the frame. The person was so ashamed that this was the picture her life had created and that the Lord would see such a mess. But when called to stand with Jesus what she saw was the other side of the work and it was a beautiful embroidered picture of Jesus. She had only seen the back side from here. But there next to the Savior she saw what it really looked like to Him.

I don't know how any one carries the deep heart ache of losing a child and not share that burden with Christ. I don't know how others parent without prayful consultations with the Lord. I do know that whether you seek him out or not, He is still sovereign, omniscient, good, kind, merciful, and by the way, gracious. We see the knots and tangles of this life and those things hurt us deeply. But when we trust Him with the pain and take comfort through His peace, His Spirit, only then will we find rest from even the senseless and life altering. That peace lifts us above our situation, above the moment and into His care, and we are able to breathe, to rest, to not need to understand it all but leave it in the Lord's hands without question. And in those moments when nothing else seems right or true or fixable - He is still God, He is still good.

Spring joy

There is something about spring that makes me want to dig in the dirt. I'm not an amazing gardner and my yard is usually the talk of the neighbors, unfortunately not the kind of talk you want to be. But turning over the cool earth on a warm day, dirt under my nails and staining my hands, that somehow always makes me feel better no matter how blue I may feel. I even like the smell of the dirt when it's first turned. It reminds me that with God there is also an opportunity for a new beginning, a fresh start, new mercies. A few minutes of pushing the brown stuff around and feeling the cool dry clumps break between my fingers brings a sense of joy that the new season is really here. I can now plant those seeds and plants with the warning on the package "after danger of all frost" or "after all danger of frost", something like that. The air feels fresh, the sun warm against the skin, and the breeze enough to enjoy the work without much sweat. There is also something about watching the various bulbs and other spring flowers and vegetables lifting their their brand new bodies through the dirt and stretching with all that is in them heavenward. There is a rush of joy, a new song of praise, a child-like exhuberance that fills me when I take up the spade or shovel and head out to the yard for the first time that year. It becomes a dance of worship, not of nature, but of Him. It seems as though the One who offers the day, the dirt, the breeze, the plants to me is breathing a sweet sigh as I kneel down and my heart leaps toward Him in gratitude. I am grateful for this moment, for these plants, this garden, yes. I am even more grateful for the sacrifice He made on my behalf, that these simple pleasures might show me His hand in a glimpse and the smiling faces of the johnny-jump-ups covered with the royal purple remind me that the price was paid by the King. Kneeling in my garden, playing in the dirt I find myself kneeling before the Creator's throne and the glimmer of His glory in the work of His hand set before me often is overwhelming. I have found myself in those moments of worshipful joy with silent tears as His breath becomes real to me and the delight of His presence is touchable. I think with the few minutes I left in the afternoon, I'm going to go out to the throne room to catch a glimpse. Want to join me?

A Curious Plant

I have several spider plants. Most, if not all of them came originally from my mother-in-law's 70th birthday party. Little pots of spider plants and red maples were set around the room as party favors by Dave, her son-in-law. For whatever reasons, the little maples I brought home died. But all of the spiders took off and grew and were transplanted into slightly larger pots and given away, while I kept a few babies to start over with again. One hangs near the front door with a promising batch of little spiders hanging from strong stems in the morning sunshine. Most people coming in don't even notice it, but it salutes those leaving with a wave and a wish for good life. I also have one of those plants (no idea what it's really called) that looks like huge shamrocks. I bought it for St. Patrick's Day and it sits on the window sill turning all the little faces toward the east each morning and filling up the window full of dirt (my seedlings) with blooms of green. Another house plant sits atop the bookshelf that divides the living room space from my little craft area. It's a philademdrum. I call him Dr. Phil because he's just the right kind of green medicine I need when the day is gray and I'm blue. I take him down and pull and fuss with the leaves, tangling and untangling the strands, and cleaning the dust from him. I always feel better after spending a few minutes with the good doctor. I got him from my mom a few years ago and he's lasted longer than most plants for I'm not really a green thumbed person. I just pretend pretty well. And then there's the curious house plant. She is one long vine and has long thick leaves. Not like the leaves of a succulent, but heavy and sturdy. She stays heavy at one end and grows a long stem that causes her to droop and eventually to break off. The leaves get longer and thicker as she matures and the plant produces a pretty little flower at the end, but the flower is short lived and really not the point. It's the plant itself that is the thing to enjoy. The stem stays the same thickness even as it lengthens and the leaves grow both longer and thicker. Eventually the stem cannot support the leaves any longer. She only breaks off once every year or two, and every time it happens I expect that the plant in the pot is dead (it looks dead). I put the flowering end, the leaves, into a jar with a rooting solution, and let the rest sit in its old pot and rest for a few days. It takes me by surprise every time it happens, but it happens every time. After a few days, usually about a week, I will be watering the plants around the old pot and notice tiny fresh leaves on the old stem. It's an amazing sight to see this old stem producing new life, fresh leaves and the old leaves producing new roots in the other jar. My great-aunt, Aunt Reggie (Regina) gave me the plant a few years before she passed away. She truely had a green thumb and could raise anything. The plant reminds me of her, strong and resourceful. It provides me more than just a memory though. It is a picture of my Savior's hand and the plan that God promised He has for me in the book of Isaiah. I have an annoying habit of taking on more and more responsibility until I cannot carry it anymore and something snaps and I lose it all, or something breaks off, falls off, or dies. Lately I have begun to feel that weight, the long thin stem holding and sustaining the heavy thick maturing leaves. A part time job in my husband's business; writing the blog; working toward my degree; writing two books - one about our adoption journey and one based on a biblical character; a new business adventure for me that will hopefully add to our income as well as provide me with an outlet for my creative bug; traveling twice a month to our son's school in VA; a small church related responsibility; all of the regular chores of life such as laundry, making appts., cleaning, paying bills, getting groceries, the normal things everyone does; and bible study, reading, prep for group, and prayer; and oh, yeah, rest. These are a part of what I have hanging from my life plant presently. Some days it is just too much. Now please don't read me wrong. I am not whining. Just stating the facts. Most of the time, I'm having a blast in the midst of all of this. But it really is over-load and I know it. I have taken on each of these responsibilities with prayer and I've tried to have discernment along the way. The plant is beginning to feel heavy with the leaves of the responsibilities as the stem of life grows longer and each leaf, thicker. I realize though, that at one time I would have been looking for the fruit or the flower, I know that right now it's not about that. The "flowers" these areas produce will not in all likelyhood, not be award-winning, stunning in beauty, or productive in nourishment like the flower of the apple tree or berry plants. No, the flowers may be seen by a few, but the plant and its growth is the point. The producing happens in the letting go, separating, starting over. As the old breaks away and responsibilities are completed they won't die off necessarily. Some of the leaves will fall away, but the majority will take new roots elsewhere. I suppose that at some point I will not work part time at the store any longer, someone else will do my job. My blog will end and you will read someone's else's glimpses and glimmers. My degree will be earned (oh, I so hope!) and I will either find where to use it or move into the master's program (doesn't that, in the light of knowing the Master, sound enticing?). The books will be written by God's grace and I will move on to others or not. The new business will grow and provide what I am hoping for or it won't. Our son will graduate and move on to college and we won't take a drive into the heart of VA twice a month any more. The church responsibilities will be passed on to someone new (someone with more administrative skills than I have I hope for their sake.) Each of these will offer a flower, a moment to enjoy them and what they have produced in my life. Their flower isn't the point though. The other responsiblities are just part of the core of the plant where the stem flows from, the piece that continues on even when the rest dies away. That's where the new leaves begin to sprout, out of that life. But in truth, they spring from the roots in the soil. The reading of the Word, the study and preparations of that study, and the time spent in prayer and at His feet are the roots. Yes, those things are the strength of the core plant and are steady no matter how the leaves weigh the stem down. My son gave me a calendar at Christmas that is titled "For Women Who Do Too Much". Hmm. Wonder how he figured that one out? Yesterday someone sent me a devotional that was dealing with over-commitment. I know I am once again in that place and I have a few clues of what I need to let go of. Nothing is really finished and so I believe I need to finish a few things. Perhaps it's this blog. Perhaps it's a few other things. Whatever happens I know that He will produce new life, new leaves in this old stem. The curious thing is that each time the plant has lost it's leaves it starts with one new set. This time there are two. That's never happened before. I'm wondering if it isn't a bit prophetic, and hoping that it is. How about you? Dropped any leaves lately? Any new growth? Are your roots strong? Oh! The soil where the plant lives, abides and receives all that's necessary to sustain life - it's Him. But you knew that.

its really not about the fruit

Several years ago we lived in a rural area of Cecil County, Md. The area is called Fair Hill and it is truly an appropriate description of the beauty of the place. Especially before the building frenzy began there. The house we bought was my dream home.

It sat on two acres of land, most of which was a sloping front yard. The yard dropped gently to the edge and then quickly fell sharply to the road. Sitting on our front steps we could watch the cows graze just beyond the fence across the winding country road, and beyond the cows the creek gurgled and danced along in a wonderful display most days. Beyond the creek were acres and acres of horse farm and then just a few houses dotted the distance before the trees began to poke up high across the horizon. It was really a relaxing place to live.

In the spring I loved to sit out on the front lawn in the evening and watch as the stars popped out. The darkness of the sky was so much deeper without the lights of town and we never got tired of seeing the brilliance and multitude of stars twinkling above. And across our little valley and up our hill there would float haunting melodies from the ancient church just at the end of the road where the keeper of the historic building would practice his bag pipes from early April into May. He would practice in the afternoons and sometimes in the early evening and I would throw open the windows so I didn't miss a note if I couldn't be outside for the daily concert.

We bought the house in March and began that spring to clean up the overgrown yard. The hill across the front was covered with briers and weeds. The forsythia down the side was a tangle of yellow beauty. The mimosas and cherry blossoms were stunning in bloom. But in the back corner of the yard was a massive tangle of vines. We had found one tree in front of the mess that we were sure was an apple tree. But we had no idea what was under the maze of vines.

We spent most of the spring digging out the briers and tearing down the vines. By summer the front hill, although full of ruts, was beginning to show promise, and the vines were gone. To our surprise we found an orchard under all that mess. I believe there were 7 trees to start with. Seven peach trees sitting in the back corner just waiting to be discovered.

We were very excited at the prospect and set about learning what to do to save them if we could. We pruned them and sprayed them and fertilized them and waited. The first year produced very little fruit and what did develop rotted long before it ripened. Two of the trees died that year and one was not looking very good. But we hoped.

We were also tending the apple tree with care which did the same thing with its fruit. We didn't really care whether we ate the fruit at that point. We were just excited to be growing things and the yard was alive with such a variety of birds. A few species seemed to enjoy the mimosas the most. One day I counted more than 70 gold finches playing in the branches. We hung a hammock between the two and would lay quietly and watch as the hummingbirds would come in flocks. I had never seen a group of hummingbirds like that before and have never seen it since, but they would descend upon the mimosas in a flock and then flit from pink puff to pink puff, dancing and humming their wings all around me. It was amazing. It was perfect.

The fruit trees seemed to attract some birds, but not enough to be a nuisance and we thought that was curious since the yard was chock full of any number of different birds. They seemed to know the trees were sick and other than a nest each year in the apple tree, we had no bird problems.

The following year we hoped we would see better fruit, but it was the same thing. Fruit flowers, turned to small fruit, growing to almost full size and then they would drop off the tree still unripe but rotted. No worms, no mildew, just rotten from the inside out.

Again the third year, the same story, although the fruit seemed to get a little closer to ripe and the trees themselves were looking healthy and full of good leaves. It was a pretty, inviting little orchard. You would never guess that the fruit was no good.

By the fourth year our front yard had been completely filled in with fresh dirt and sod, the corner had a lovely little rock garden, and we felt like we lived in a little slice of heaven. The orchard was looking beautiful and the apple tree was full of lovely little flowers. We harvested good apples that year and enjoyed the fruit of our patience and hard labor. The peaches were not producing anything edible though. They looked just like good healthy peach trees, but they only seemed capable of producing rotted, useless fruit.

When we moved away from there five years after moving in we still had not seen any sign of healthy fruit. But the last season of the growing the peaches stayed on the trees longer, grew in weight, and had begun to look pickable and then they fell. Almost overnight it seemed they rotted. We had hoped this last year would be the year. But we moved. I don't know if they would have grown good fruit that last year for the new owners tore them out and put in a built in swimming pool in that corner of the yard. I knew it was their right to do with their new home, but I actually cried. We had worked so hard on that little corner and were so hopeful that it would bless the new owners with the fruit we had looked forward to all those years. But all our work was worthless.

Or was it? We never got to eat the fruit, but we spent many an hour learning and enjoying the yard in a way that we would never have chosen to do if that little orchard had not existed to begin with. We worked together and had the satisfaction of seeing it go from almost dead to four (in the end we only had four) beautiful little blooming trees.

I'm glad we didn't tear them out and toss them into the fire right away. I think sometimes my own healings have come slowly like those of the peach trees. Year after year the Lord graciously watered me with His word, "I have carved you into the palms of my hands and your walls are continuously before me." "You are the apple of His eye." "He delights over his people (and you are his people.)" Over and over, year after year he watered, he pruned, he poured good fertile things into the soil of my life. Season after season my fruit seemed to fall off too early, rot from the inside, not quite serve the purpose it was supposed to serve. But the Gardener tended my branches and lovingly removed the vines that choked me, covered me with the protection that allowed me to grow stronger and able, and removed the dead leaves, branches, and fruit to keep me growing healthier. And in the process I learned that the fruit when it did come in full and ripe, would bless others, would bless me, would bless Him. He was blessed simply by me though. Just as those trees standing in their little grove became a beautiful sight to me even though they never produce one piece of usable fruit, so it is with God and His people.

You don't have to be anything or anyone to earn your place in his love. He loves you because he is love. His desire is for you to know him and to know him deeply, intimately. Your fruit will become useful, ripe, ready for others, and it will bless him also. But it isn't the fruit He is seeking. It's you. Just you.

Zephaniah 3:17 The Lord thy God in the midst of thee is mighty; he will save, he will rejoice over thee with joy; he will rest in his love, he will joy over thee with singing.

Yup, he prunes and that's not a comfortable or fun process - getting rid of dead or diseased things or things that are growing wrong. Yup, he will spray us with the right mixture of grace to protect us from the things that would chew us and destroy us. Yup, he will pour into the soil of our lives the things that fertilize and feed our roots and spirits. But everything he does, he does with the intention of developing you into a strong and healthy person, connected and dependent on his love and protection. He is mighty to save.

3/5/12  I reread this today and was reminded what a blessing it is just to belong to Him.  Something new soon, but for today I hope you enjoyed last year's march 5 entry.  Blessings, Cheri

Heavy with expectation

I headed out the front door in almost a run. I was, of course, running a few minutes behind. The warmth of the day caught my attention and I couldn't resist taking a deep breath. I paused just a moment before pulling the handle of the car door. Looking skyward I saw them.

Giants hung overhead. They filled the sky and all but obilerated the blue that had just a few moments before so carelessly colored the expanse above me. Now the giants loomed, dark and heavy. They looked like the child whose mouth is too full of water, ready to burst forth the contents any second now.

Despite the gray skies moving quickly into my day and over that joyful blue, I felt light and full of expectation. Not inspite of those clouds. No,no, because of them. It is still February and February in Delaware can mean harsh cold temperatures and piles of white (or very quickly dirty brown) stuff. February often likes to remind us here that spring is still weeks away and she does her best to chill our bones.

A few minutes later sitting in my meeting facing a window I watched as the huge rain drops began to explode on the pavement outside. Then it came like the bursting of something held back for a long time. It poured. Leaving the meeting I passed someone coming in the door as I was going out and she said, "Try to stay dry!" I smiled and responded. I wasn't worried about staying dry though. All I could think about was "it looks like spring out there!" Last weekend we had warm temps that made everyone hungry for what yet is still a dream. Then the snow came with the start of the new work week. Still, here we are back at today, warm and raining (and as I type, blowing hard like March, but blue again.)

This week, like most of my weeks, has been very busy and there was little time to pause and reflect. Something I need time to do in order to write. There was time to reflect on my school paper for it needed to get done (and finally, months into the project, it is mailed and I can move on to the second paper. Only nine to go, lol.) But there was the usual laundry pile. (I used to call it Mt. Never-rest, back when I had four and five kids in the house. Today it's more of a foot hill than a mountain - Praise God!) There is my work schedule for the garage. Cleaning; keeping current with teenagers lives, grades, loves, and projects; checking in with sick friends to see what I can do; praying with one several times; and all the other normal weekly things that have a way of piling up and silently screaming at me if I neglect them too long.

This blog took a backseat for the moment. Today as I thought about my reaction to the giant storm clouds as they rolled into my day I wondered for a split second why. Why was I glad to see them? The reasons were not far behind. The warmth promised rain not snow. The rain promises green grass and budding trees. Those clouds were heavy with promise, heavy with the expectation that spring will come as surely as dawn.

In my own life there are giants hanging over my head and yet I can't help but feel excited at the knowledge that they are there. Not because I like the rain that will surely fall, but from what that will produce in my life. There are things that are time consuming and difficult; there are challenges in our family life; there is uncertainty in important issues and decisions; and there are possible losses to come. Yet, I know that whatever rain falls it's because He reigns. He has a reason and will make sure it produces new green sprouts and buds bursting with life and color in my life. My life is heavy with expectations: expectations of finishing my degree, with completing my book, with opportunity to use my teaching/speaking skills again. Expectations of enjoying better days with my husband. Expectations of the joys that come with grandchildren growing up, a son completing Jr. High, a daughter heading into her senior year. Expectations full and weighty with good things. The air tingles with the sense of the presence of those giants looming large. But I am rejoicing. For I know the promise; I know the One who promises; and I know He is faithful.

Seen any storm clouds lately?

The February Thaw

The February thaw has come! The greens of the daffodils are beginning to sprout in some yards; crocuses are ready to pop; and the tiniest of buds are beginning to form on the trees and bushes. The warmth of the sun, if not the air, is evidence that winter is being pushed aside and spring is becoming impatient to show herself. And we cheer.

Well, I cheer. Are you cheering? The bright sun's warmth pouring through my windows brings a sense of comfort and a stirring in my soul to get moving. I am making spring cleaning lists and lists of projects I want to see completed this summer. I find myself walking outside just to go out for a minute, something I would not do if the temps dropped just a few degrees. Checking for the green flowers poking up is becoming a daily ritual again as I long for some evidence that this is real. But alas, I have lived long enough to know that this is normally just a preview of what lies several weeks into the future. Winter has not played her last note, not yet.

This little pause in winter reminds me of the moments of preview our gracious Lord during this winter here. This world is cold and dark compared to the glory that awaits us in eternity. There are moments when we step closer and "feel" the warmth of Eternity's Son. The mother receiving eye contact from her child who is autistic finds in that moment the ability to see beneath the disability to the boy she knows he really is, the child who will stand with her on the other side of this winter world. The daughter whose mother is lost in the secret places of dementia hears her name called and she listens as the old woman relives a precious moment from the daughter's childhood, and she remembers the mother who loved her and looks to the day when they, together, will stand before Jesus in wholeness of body and mind. The couple who have suffered through years of humiliation of unwanted barrenness peering into the eyes of the tiny child just placed in their arms, find the moment of eternity's breeze blow across their lives as they commit themselves to this child's life. The single person nearing forty years of age with no sense of being called to singleness but never quite making that connection, until now, as she stands at the altar and pledges her life to the man standing with her, peeks also to the coming wedding feast of the Bridegroom who is worthy of our waiting.

But there are smaller moments that breathe with eternity's life and give us a moment of reality. For we know that this world is really just a shadow of what is to come. I am thinking of small moments like the most amazing colors in the sky at the perfect sunset; the glowing blue of the ice in a glacier crevice; the soft, full scent of the first summer rose; the clean waking fullness of a lung filled with crisp autumn air; or the shimmer of the first snow through the delighted eyes of a small child. It's so easy (at least for me) to get caught up in the day to day routines and headaches that I forget that this is just a moment and the real thing is yet to come. Then He offers me a preview of what is to come. He pulls the curtain of eternity aside for just a breath and I remember Isaiah as he sees the train and hears the call; Ezekiel as he struggles to explain what he has seen at all; John writing of the rainbow encircling the throne and the crowns laying at its foot; and my heart leans toward that, longs for the fullness of what lies ahead, and aches with the desire to be there. And then the curtain falls and today becomes my moment and I know, that just like the February thaw will surely give way to the cold days again, yet spring is coming; so also will this winter give way to the new day when I step into eternity and meet my Savior. Are you longing for the end of winter or have you forgotten that it will end, some day, when the Father says "now"?

Pruning

I am the true vine and my Father is the vinedresser. Every branch in Me that does not bear fruit, he takes away; and every branch that bears fruit, He prunes it that it may bear more fruit. (John 15:1-2, NASB)

I have always considered these words in light of big tribulation and trouble in life. After all, Jesus is on his way to the Garden of Gethsemane at this point when He speaks these words. Life is at a point where He needs to say what is really important. Not that those before weren't important; all the red letters are, of course, life words. But those He spoke in the last few hours seem to be heavy with importance. So when I have faced or seen those who are facing life's big, difficult moments (the death of a loved one, the loss of a business or dream, a miscarriage, the discovery of barrenness, a loved one's addiction, or their own, these kinds of big things) and I know that this person knows Jesus, I think of that in the light of God's sovereignty that He is allowing this situation for their or my ultimate good and that He will bring blessing and produce good things in life because of this moment. And that is true. It does apply to those big things, I believe.

However, I am learning that His words are much more applicable than for just those big moments. Pruning is something that takes place in the correct season each year. The gardener or farmer takes hold of the tree or vine and clips it here and there. This is not to make the plant beautiful. (Although in the end - it does make it more beautiful as the fruit is produced.) It is for a specific purpose, to bring a bigger yield in produce. So the plant is pruned in the right season to help it produce what it is intended to produce. It would yield fruit without the pruning, at least for a while, but it would not produce as well, as fully without the cutting away.

In the last year I have started 2 major projects. I began my fourth year in seminary and I began writing a book. I believe both are things the Lord has called me to do. I can see how throughout my life He moved me along the path toward this day. I cannot express how excited I was to begin my fourth year or to find the story I would tell. And so I stepped forward with high expectations and goals of when and how and where.

What I did not expect was the pruning. This is not a major trouble time. It is a time of gaining wisdom and applying what I have already learned along the way. It was supposed to be fun and full of fruit and blessing. It is full of blessing, just not exactly the ones I thought would come. It is full of fruit or will be, but there is pruning required.

Learning the craft of creating a work of fiction has been daunting. I have a good story, but learning how to write the words in a way that conveys the message in a style that is appealing and to do that with skill is much harder than I expected when I started writing it.

The fourth year of school was suppose to be somewhat of a "breeze". Not in the sense of the ease of the work, but in that what is required is to read several books and then write a paper on the subject. Wow! Right up my alley! Or so I thought. I spent the first three months just figuring out what was expected in the outline and ended up cutting more than 14 hours worth of work out of it. Then actually writing the paper, hmmm. I finally completed it and knew it was lacking some important things (like a sense of connection through the whole thing!) But I was just done. (Ever been there, just done?) Please understand, I have been working on this thing since week three of Sept. and the original due date was Oct. 15. I feel pressure to get it completed (from myself, not the school). Also please understand, that I have always had no trouble writing good papers. Finding enough words has never been a problem for me. I usually have the opposite trouble - way too much to say. I wrote more than 40,000 words last year for a paper that was requiring 5,000 and had to cut it down. I think I manage to get it to 8,000. So having difficulty making this paper happen is really frustrating.

However, I realize that in both of these areas there is pruning taking place. As I submit my writing to other writers and friends who have agreed to edit for me, I get critiques and suggestions that have shown me how to improve the story and my writing in general. I have learned that there is much to learn and that He will continue to bring others into my life as I need to know. There is humility in that. I am not a 20 yo in college. I'm almost 51, homeschooled for 13 years, saw 2 of my children graduated under my schooling, and have been writing since I first learned how at age 7. Yet, there is not really pain in the advice. The cutting comes in the amount of rewriting, restructuring, and slowly moving toward the completion of the story that I already know the ending to. I want it to be good; I want it to be excellent in content, research, and style. I am fully convinced that while I would like to shoot it off and send it out, it is not ready and I would not be satisfied, nor the Lord honored if I do not spend the time shaping it and learning how to do this better. So I am leaning in as the Father bends my twig and clips this and that, leaving the correct angle for further growth and stronger, healthier, and abundant fruit.

Learning how to write an adequate or hopefully well written academic paper is also more than I expected. But I am learning. I am waiting it out and writing it over and adding to it where it needs more. In all honesty, I wish I could stamp it and mail it today. I wish I could move on and not look back at this first paper. But there is reason that the Lord pulls this twig and clips and that twig and clips again.

I know there is a specific purpose to what He is doing. I don't know what. I know there is fruit that is waiting to blossom, and ripen. But before it comes, the pruning must come. I need to learn how to do each of these things well. I am so impatient, and that is one of the things He has revealed in this process. Some things came too easily. Learning to slow down and take the time to do it well and right is harder than it should be. And I have had to set other things aside in order to make time to do this. Another piece of the pruning. More than I can list is taking place, some in my heart and mind, some in the natural life. but He is accomplishing His purpose as He pulls and clips. He doesn't just want me to produce fruit; He has MORE fruit for me. Because to abide in Him means abundance, right? How blessed are we to be His! I would say I can't wait to see what He does, yet I can, I will, and it will be in His perfect time.

Are you being pruned? Or is this the season of production or harvest for you? Whether you feel the cold edge of the shears as the cut through or you are enjoying the abundance of a full harvest, know that when the Father tends your branch, it is in love. For He disciplines those He loves. I am thankful for His love, His discipline, His pruning. I hope you can say that with me.